Will’s eyes dart between the roast goose and suckling pig. He has no doubt they are exactly what they appear to be. One of the joys of their relationship is that Hannibal has no need to disguise what, or who, they are eating. “Two roasts? I thought I said I’d provide the meat. You really overdid it with the tree, the Christmas Eve dinner, the gifts. The least I could do was give you the night off.”

“Nothing like this.” Will apologizes, eyes darting over the larder. “One of my dad’s friends used to go hunting. He taught me how to make this venison chili. Do you remember John?”

“From a few months ago at the orchards? Yes. He kept asking if my ‘brother’ and I needed any help.” Hannibal says.

“Well, I suppose we can say he was in season.” Will says.

Hannibal smiles as a silence settles in. Will approaches his lover. Picturesque as ever, a single tear glistens in the corner of the older man’s eye. No sooner has Will rested a comforting hand on than Hannibal has grasped it, pulling him close. “Never be ashamed of your cooking, love. You brought for the table a dish prepared with care, a meat you yourself hunted and dressed. Especially for a meal such as this, the gift of your past and the care you put in it is far more appropriate than my roasts.”

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal. Relief and pride swirl through him in equal measure, twisting and weaving through a wave of affection. “Thank you.” He mumbles into the embrace, savoring the contact. Several moments pass before he speaks again “Can we hold off on cuddling until after dinner? I’m starving.”

“Certainly.” Hannibal hold him tighter for a moment before reluctantly letting him go. “I can put away the roasts while you fetch the chili. The scalloped potatoes and yorkshire pudding will be an interesting offset, but what is Christmas is not a blending of traditions?”

Oh. And Devil’s Food Cake for dessert.

Due to our write-ins requesting torture porn, there will be no torture porn. As PUNISHMENT.